


at twilight

by anastiel



Series: Rendezvous [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: Jensen and Misha spend some much needed time together. Current timestamp for "Rendezvous."





	

Crisp fall wind brushes across Misha’s cheek, coming in from off the bay. The musk of rain lingers in the air from showers earlier in the afternoon; but it’s clear now, moon bright and high above his head. A chill rushes down his spine as the wind picks up a bit, and he pulls the comforter wrapped around his torso and feet up over his shoulders. Next to him the door to the inside of the house creaks open, a gush of warm air spreading over him, and he cranes his neck up to smile at Jensen.

“Did you call Danneel?” Misha asks.

“Yeah, she’s doing good. She told me to give you and Vicki kisses for her,” Jensen chuckles, plopping down beside him onto the makeshift couch Misha made out of the cushions from the patio chairs.

Jensen hands Misha a beer, wrapping his palm around Misha’s hand and pulls him in, bringing their mouths together in a soft kiss.

“Thanks,” Misha murmurs, mouth still brushing against Jensen’s. Misha kisses him, gentle and barely touching but it warms Misha from the inside out, despite the persistent chill.

Jensen settles in next to him, pressing close until their thighs are pressed together underneath the comforter. He takes a few languid sips off his beer, then places it down on the deck next to him, reaching underneath the covers to find Misha’s hand.

“Do you know if Vicki went to bed?” Misha asks.

“I think she wanted to get the kids ready, then she’ll be back down. How long have you been out here?”

Misha shrugs, “An hour or so.”

“You’re not cold?” Jensen asks.

“Not anymore,” Misha replies, with a smirk. “I love sitting out here, even when it’s cold, it’s too beautiful to resist.”

Jensen nods, gazing out at the expanse of darkness in front of them, the only visible light flickers down below them in the harbor. The soft whooshing of the waves against the rocks echoes, comforting, along with the hollow cries of a few lingering seagulls. It may be night now, but in the morning the horizon will be alight with sunrise, oranges sparkling off the water and the islands in the distance. Jensen knows he’ll find Misha out here in the morning too, a warm cup of tea in his hands, blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“Hey Mish,” Jensen starts, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“Yeah?”

“Is it okay if I stay here for the week? I know we don’t have the same call times I just...” Jensen’s voice trails off and he ducks his head, blush creeping up his cheeks.

Misha squeezes his hand, “You just what?”

“I really need to wake up next to you and Vicki for a few mornings,” Jensen answers softly.

Misha’s lips tip up into the hint of a smile, and he leans over pressing a kiss against Jensen’s cheek. “You know you don’t have to ask, you’re always welcome here.”

“I know,” Jensen answers, then he’s rotating his body, and leaning forward, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of Misha’s cold nose, “I know.”

Jensen rests back against the cushion, scooting as close to Misha as he can. Misha’s hand loosens in his hold, so it's more comfortable, but he keeps his fingers slotted between Jensen’s. They’ll head up to bed in a while, but for now they’ll stay here, and just _be_.

* * *

Misha wakes first, as he always does, before dawn out of habit. After he untangles himself from Vicki and Jensen’s loving arms, he grabs a spare blanket off the bed and shuffles downstairs. On his way down the hall, he looks in on West and Maison; they’re still asleep and with any luck they will stay that way for at least a few more hours. Once downstairs he beelines to the kettle, filling it with water and leaving it on the stove to heat. Hints of light are starting to peek through the kitchen windows, the sun slowly creeping up to the horizon in the east over the mountains. He rests his hip against the counter, tugging the blanket around his shoulders, keeping the cool draft from nipping at his arms.

He gazes out at the bay, watching the dark grey of the sky, sea, and distant island slowly come to life with color as the minutes pass. The squeal of the kettle startles him out of his daze, and he pours himself a mug of green tea, and makes his way out to the porch. It’s chillier outside, the fall mornings easily dipping down below fifty scraping forty some days. But he doesn’t mind, resting his mug on the railing, warming his hands with its heat. The world comes to life before him the moment the sun crests Mt. Baker, shooting golden orange light across the bay, weaving with the blue ripples of the waves and the white caps. A light pink ray arches over the islands, turning every cloud in sight a lighter pastel pink. Misha smiles at the sight before him, lifting the mug to his mouth and taking a measured sip of the steaming liquid. One word floats through his mind: home.

* * *

Jensen watches for a few moments before joining Misha on the deck. He looks at home, wrapped up in one of the knitted blankets his Mom made for him a few years ago; a mug of tea in his hand. He’s silhouetted in orange light out there, looking just as heavenly as Jensen is sure Castiel would look if Castiel were real. He chuckles to himself, grabbing his own freshly made mug of coffee off of the counter, and joins Misha on the deck. The traitorous door creaks again, alerting Misha of his presence. Misha turns toward the noise, a soft smile sliding onto his face, eye gentle with so much love it makes Jensen’s chest clench up.

“Morning,” Jensen says, crossing the deck to Misha, pressing their mouths together in a sweet kiss..

“You’re up early,” Misha states, eyes twinkling. “Gonna join me on my run?”

Jensen chuckles, “No, I just thought I’d enjoy the sunrise with you.”

Misha smiles, a shy one, and Jensen’s amazed he can still manage to get Misha to blush after all this time. “Sap,” is Misha’s heartfelt reply, and he nudges at Jensen’s ribs with his elbow.

“Yeah, well you love me,” Jensen replies, smirking and taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah,” Misha agrees fondly, “I suppose I do.”

Misha turns back to face the water, moving over so his hip is pressed against Jensen’s. He tilts his head, resting it on Jensen’s and wraps his free arm around Jensen’s waist. And together, they watch Bellingham come to life around them.


End file.
